


Guide to the Cassegrain Telescope

by louise97



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fluff, M/M, MoL Telescope - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 03:59:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6104119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise97/pseuds/louise97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean never leaves his bed unmade. He always remembers to clean up the kitchen. He never returns a book to the shelf out of alphabetical order. He weekly washes the cars at the garage and vacuums the halls. </p><p>The reason he does all this is because he's grown to love the Men of Letters' bunker like a home he never had.</p><p>One person can only handle so much, though. Dean's just human and the bunker is <i>huge</i> - naturally a few remarkable things were bound to escape his notice. Like the 10 valuable baseball cards hidden inside old loafers he threw away after deeming the pair "fugly"; or the original play of Hamlet, lost among a pile of rotting paper he stashed inside a filing box marked <i>'Useless Crap'</i> on cleaning day; and even the very first Cassegrain telescope ever built, to which he barely spares a glance as he goes about the library.</p><p>At least for the telescope, this is about to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide to the Cassegrain Telescope

_In 1671, on a night like any other, a smart old man and a brilliant little boy stroll the beach on the French coast._

_“Stars are_ angels _?” The boy asks, covering the moon with his thumb and closing one eye._

_“Oh yes, my boy. Every star in the sky is but an inkling of an Angel of the Lord.” The man responds as he writes a letter to an old friend._

_“With all due respect, Father Cassegrain, but that simply cannot be! Think of it—how come have we not seen their wings?” The boy opens his other eye, concluding he can no longer hide the moon with only his thumb._

_“Claude, can you keep a secret?” The man looks over his finished letter and, in light of this conversation, tentatively attaches a note to it._

_“Why, of course!”_

_“I’ve envisioned a marvellous instrument. It has not yet been built, but if my predictions are correct, we may very well be closer to seeing angels’ wings than ever before."_

 

 

 

 

 

**[Impala's radio]** _We've got some space news! The Hubble Telescope just captured a stunning image of what looks like a soaring, celestial angel. It shows a star-forming region, called Sharpless 2-106, where twin lobes of super-hot gas stretch outward from the central star. This blue hot gas creates the wings of our angel. A ring of dust and gas orbiting the star acts like a belt, shaping the expanding nebula into an hourglass form. Looks like angels really are out there watching over us_ _, folks!_  

 

Dean scoffs, changing the station. 

You'd think this whole science parade going on lately ought to make people lay off the Bible Camp crap, but seems like they just turned their God-goggles from tortillas in New Mexico to dust clouds some ten thousand light-years up the Milky Way's ass. Dean's heard of "God's Fingers", "Eye of God", and now an angel joined the party, apparently. 

Freaking angels—he _wishes_ they were up in space puffing out their wings to look cute for the cameras, not all over Earth screwing things up.

He wonders what whoever built the first badass telescope like Hubble would say, if they knew now most people only hear about it if there's some divine pareidolia of a body part floating around the galaxy.

From what Dean's heard about scientists, guy must be turning in his grave.

 

 

 

 

Letter of M. de Bercé to a French science journal, published in April, 1672, concerning the Catadioptrical Telescope:

> _[...] It is now about three months since Mr. Cassegrain communicated to me the figure of a telescope, which was nearly like Newton's, and which he had invented, but which I look upon as more ingenious. I shall here give you the description of it in short. ABCD is a strong tube, in the bottom of which there is a great concave speculum CD, pierced in the middle E. F is a convex speculum, so disposed, as to its convexity, that it reflects the species which it receives from the great speculum, towards the hole E, where is an eye-glass, which one looks through. The advantage which I find in this instrument above that of Mr. Newton, is first, that the mouth or aperture AB of the tube may be of what size you please; and consequently you may have many more rays on the concave speculum, than upon that, of which you have given us the description.—2. The reflection of the rays will be very natural, since it will be made upon the axis itself, and therefore more vivid.—3. The vision of it will be so much the more pleasing, as you will not be incommoded by the great light, by reason of the bottom CD, which hides the whole face. Besides that you have less difficulty in discovering the objects than in Mr. Newton's._

Mr. Isaac Newton's Considerations on part of a Letter of M. de Bercé, concerning the Catadioptrical Telescope, pretended to be improved and refined by Mr. Cassegrain, written in May, 1672: 

> _Sir, —I should be very glad to meet with any improvement of the catadioptrical telescope; but that design of it, which (as you inform me) Mr. Cassegrain has communicated 3 months since, and is now printed in one of the French memoirs, I fear will not answer expectation. For when I first applied myself to try the effects of reflections, Mr. Gregory's Optica Promota (printed in the year 1663) having fallen into my hands, where there is an instrument like that of Mr. Cassegrain's, with a hole in the midst of the object metal, to transmit the light to an eye-glass placed behind it; I had thence an occasion of considering that sort of constructions, and found their disadvantages so great, that I saw it necessary, before I attempted any thing in the practice, to alter the design of them, and place the eye-glass at the side of the tube, rather than at the middle. [...]_
> 
> _You see therefore, that the advantages of this design are none, but the disadvantages so great and unavoidable, that I fear it will never be put in practice with good effect. And when I consider, that by reason of its resemblance with other telescopes, it is something more obvious than the other construction; I am apt to believe, that those, who have attempted any thing in catoptrics, have ever tried it in the first place, and that their bad success in that attempt has been the cause why nothing has been done in reflections. [...]_
> 
> **_I could wish therefore, Mr. Cassegrain had tried his design, before he divulged it: but if, for further satisfaction, he please hereafter to try it, I believe the success will inform him, that such projects are of little moment till they be put in practice._ **

 

 

 

 

Dean feels like he’s being attacked by a night-long, relentless swarm of caterpillars, and while that's arguably a hyperbole, bottom line is _he can't fucking sleep._ He rolls out of bed when tossing and turning proves not so efficient, heading to the kitchen in hopes a glass of milk will do the trick.

It's a testament to how out-of-it he is that Dean almost glosses over the fact the library is short of one big-ass telescope. The entire observatory is just _gone_.

He pads across the room, the light from the laptop screen on the research table making his eyes sting.

  

Dean's groggy brain finally picks up on what's happening when he pokes his head into the gaping hole where the observatory used to be. _This is a freaking elevator shaft._

He always suspected the MoL's telescope had an elevator floor, 'cause really, what good is a thing that size if it's underground all the time? He never went so far as trying to work the damn thing, though. He has a habit of not trusting any centenary lifting machine with his 185 pound ass, _thank you very much_ , but looks like _someone_ doesn't share of that same philosophy.

He grins. "Son of a bitch."

 

 

 

 

_"You finished it!"_

_"Indeed. It works perfectly."_

_"What of spherical aberrations?"_

_"Nay."_

_"That is magnificent! You must report to the Royal Society immediately!"_

_"I would not think so, no."_

_"But... they humiliated you, shunned your good name. Why must you hide your triumph?"_

_"A man should not focus on vengeful pride, my lad, but on what good his success may bring upon the world. Anyhow, it was fairly unwise to divulge my design so shortly after the construction of Newton's telescope. Time was simply not right, but if it ever comes, my design shall receive whatever recognition is to be given it."_

_"But Father, your name will be forgotten."_

_"A name means naught if the man is vain and impatient."_  

 _"_ _And this telescope? What should be of it?_  

(“Dean?” Cas’s voice comes from above.)

 

 _"You pose a great question, Claude, for I do not know. But if I dared to hope, it would certainly be that in a far future, one who appreciates creation as do I may still use it to search the heavens for the very thing that compelled me to build it."_  

(“Yeah, it's me. What you lookin' at up there, buddy?”)

 

 _"What is that, Father?"_  

("You wouldn't believe me if I told you.")

 

_"Love, my dearest friend. Love."_

 

"Watch out, I'm going back down." Cas warns.

"Okay." Dean steps back.

There’s a quick  _bzzz_ sound before whatever powers the elevator starts rumbling through the walls. At least it doesn't sound _too_ broken.

“Jesus, how'd you manage to work this thing?” Dean asks at Cas's feet.

“I just had to push a few buttons.” He replies. 

Dean snorts. “So what, you’re all Hubble now, that it?” 

The sound of Cas's low chuckle does weird things to Dean’s rib cage. 

He knows Cas gets the Hubble reference - he’s been all over space stuff ever since he started watching _Cosmos_ on Netflix. When Dean asked about it, Cas said he wanted to _'know more about the scientific take of humans on creation'_. Somehow that didn't feel like the whole answer, but he didn't press.

"Something akin to that." Castiel concedes. "Although Mr. Hubble was fairly more experienced."

"Hey, you've been burying your nose in all this for weeks now. I give it a few months 'til you're teaching at MIT."

Cas actually _laughs_ this time, and wow, Dean feels giddy. Now that he knows what Cas's laughter sounds like, his brain fumbles for ways to elicit it again.

"You're very kind, but I doubt that." The observatory finally levels with the ground. "I lack a certain... _tact._ "

"Tell you what, you give me the tour and _then_ I'll grade your performance. Sound good?" Dean suggests, ignoring the part of his brain that flashes all kinds of red flags.

_Don't make this harder on yourself. Just go back to bed and never stand this close to him in the dark._

Cas puts on a mock-snobbish smirk and bekons him inside. "Very well, Mr. Winchester."

Dean steps into the observatory before he can bully himself out of it. Cas buzzes a switch by the wall, and the floor stars rising beneath their feet.

"So, what would you like to know?" Castiel asks, eyes indescribably fond.

 

**On April 24, 1990, the Hubble Space Telescope was launched into Low Earth orbit;**

 

"This is a casse- _what?"_

"Cassegrain. It works with two mirrors _—_ light hits the main, concave one, bounces off it and encounters the second, convex one. The second mirror focuses this light through a hole in the center of the first, which leads to the telescope's eyepiece."

"So like a reflector, right?"

"Precisely. Most modern research telescopes are Cassegrains, including the Hubble. This design and its variations are the most widely used in the world today, but it didn't always get this kind of recognition."

"Meaning?"

**Hubble's many discoveries have made it the most popular telescope in history;**

 

"You mean this Cassegrain dude _actually_  created a better design than Newton?"

"Yes. Newton did _not_ take that lightly."

"Can you blame 'im? I mean, it's gotta sting _—_ busting your ass so someone else can come up and say _'Hey man, love what you did there, but this here would be so much better_. _'_ "

"You mean constructive criticism?"

"Shaddup."

**But there is one unheard-of Cassegrain reflector;**

 

"So, Newton gets his nerdy panties in a twist, deep-fries the guy, dude goes John Doe forever?"

"More like three centuries. After much speculation regarding his name, his true identity was discovered in 2000. He was a French Catholic priest and science teacher named Laurent Cassegrain."

"Wow. Outsmart the biggest brainiac in history and get three hundred years worth of what's-his-name for a prize. Peachy." 

 

**Built by a nameless man;**

 

"Get outta here. _This_  was the first one?"

"According to the Men of Letters' files. After his rather public ridicule by the likes of Newton and Huygens, Laurent dedicated the rest of his years to building this piece."

"Then what the hell is it doing here? I mean, don't they usually put stuff like this in museums or somethin'?"

"Well, as far as the records go, the first known models of the Cassegrain were produced well into the 18th century, so if Laurent himself did build this one, it was under much secrecy. I, for one, don't understand why. You'd think he'd want to prove himself to his critics."

"Or not. Maybe he just wanted to prove himself _to himself_."

"Perhaps. As for how it got here, that's where it gets interesting. Apparently a French-American student named Claude Estienne inherited it. He took classes with Father Cassegrain from the age of eight until his twenties, and would later become one of the founders of the Men of Letters organization. The telescope likely went through a few restorations and got relocated over the centuries."

"Wow, that's... _wow._ "

"Understatement. I found a note from Estienne attached to the telescope files. It reads  _'To whomever this might reach, may you use this telescope not only as a window to the universe, but inside yourself, for you too, are made out of stars.'_  That was an extremely ambitious claim to make given his time. He must've been a rather brilliant man."

"Yeah well, if we're made outta stars then mine must've been hotter than the freaking sun, ain't that right?"

 

**That would turn out to be the most important telescope in pretty much the whole universe;**

 

"Cas? You alright?"

"Yes."

  **To them, at least;**

**_To them._**

 

Dean shifts on his feet. Maybe the joke was lost on Cas? He should probably explain. How the _fuck_ do you explain a flirty joke, anyway? 

_I was just trying to imply I'm kinda hot. Haha. Notice me._

Dean's relieved when the observatory finally stops rising, because it gives him something to focus on other than Cas's bone-crushing stare. He looks around and confirms that yeah, they're literally _on the freaking roof,_ jumping a little when the top dome starts to retract, revealing the clear, starry Lebanon sky.

Dean whistles. "Man, this is cool. You got the ‘scope aimed somewhere?”

“Yes. It took some time to figure out how to angle it correctly, but I managed.”

“Can I?” Dean points to the eyepiece.

“Of course.” Cas steps aside.

Dean bends down and looks through, grinning at the bundle of bright dots. One in particular catches his attention pretty quickly. Cas totally zeroed in on it.

 

"That really bright thingy right in the middle rocks. What am I looking at?”  

There's a pause before Cas answers. “You.” 

Dean chuckles. “Buddy, you gotta work better on your jokes.”

“Sam's told me I’m getting funnier.” Cas deadpans. “But I wasn't joking.”

Dean turns at that. “What?”

Cas looks up, as if searching the sky for the right words to say. “That star really is you, Dean. Or rather, a ghost of what you used to be.”

Okay. 

Um.

_What the fuck._

Dean waits for an explanation that obviously never comes.

“Mind to  _elaborate?”_   He asks, exasperated.

“It exploded as a supernovae eight years ago. To be precise, _I_ exploded it.” Cas says, and hell, he actually sounds  _mischievous_ , like a little boy who knows he did something naughty but doesn't regret it for a second. “When I first saw your soul in hell, I was…” He trails off. Cas's throat bobs as he swallows. “Let’s just say I didn't think simply reassembling a perishing corpse in Pontiac would do you justice. So I collected enough of your DNA and tore to my favorite star—it was one of the many that powered my grace. Once I ignited iron fusion, it was just a matter of seconds. It collapsed, and I rebuilt your body from its particles.” He explains like it’s a walk in the park. Wake up, brush your teeth, kill a star, make a human. A mild day in the life of Cas. "You know, scientists aren't wrong to say humans are stars looking back at themselves. They just have no idea how literal it gets in your case.”

“What the hell,Cas..." Dean breathes, aghast. Cas should never have given up part of his grace for Dean - if there's _anyone_ unworthy of stars, it's him. “Why'd you do it, man? You didn't even _know_ me.” 

Cas tilts his head, crossing the distance between them. A memory flashes in Dean's mind -  _Good things do happen, Dean._

“Because your soul is akin to the brightest stars. It's only fitting your body was built from one itself." Cas touches Dean's face, looking at him like—shit, like he's  _everything._

“Fuck, Cas.  _Stop_.” He begs, because _god fucking damn it_ , Dean's a 35-year-old dude whose diet consists of Jack Daniels and greasy burgers as is, so help him, if Cas keeps saying these things he  _will_ stroke the hell out.

Cas draws his hand back. "I’m sorry, I shouldn't have touched you, I—”

“Don’t!” Dean grabs Cas's wrist on impulse. 

_Don’t go, I want this, want you **—**_

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” Cas says, eyes fixed at the floor, and quite frankly, Dean loses his shit. That's not a promise he ever wanted Castiel to make.

He _wants_ Cas to touch him as often as humanly possible, and he wants to be able to touch him back without reservations, and he can't let Cas go _one more second_ thinking otherwise, but he's pretty much unable to do words right now.

So he goes with the next best thing.

Dean's not sure how long the kiss lasts, but it feels like flying and falling, like coming apart and being pieced back together, like laughing and crying, all at once. 

“13 thousand degrees Fahrenheit.” Cas pants when they break for air.

“What?” Dean croaks.

“That was the surface temperature of your star. So the answer to your question is _yes_ , you're definitely hotter than the sun.”

Dean bursts out laughing. Sam's right, Cas _is_ getting funnier.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

_Far above, in a heaven entirely made of starlight, Laurent Cassegrain smiles. No matter in what life, Claude always finds his way back to his angel._

**Author's Note:**

> Some things I feel I need to state:
> 
> 1) To whoever may be confused, yes, Claude Estienne is one of Dean's past incarnations. Cas doesn't remember meeting any of them because of heaven's brainwashing - they swiped his memory clean before sending him to rescue Dean from hell. They thought Cas's feelings could "compromise the mission" and the plans to start the apocalypse. Little did they know that with memories or not, Cas would always choose Dean in the end.  
> 2) Even though the MoL were crafty little fuckers, in terms of engineering, I have no idea whether it's actually possible to lift that entire observatory and/or fully retract its top dome, especially since I'm relying on 30's technology. One thing I do know is that I can, in fact, dream.  
> 3) The site on the address bar of Dean's laptop actually [exists](http://www.skyandtelescope.com), but the text on ρ Cas was written by me and is not on the real site. I have no affiliation with skyandtelescope.com whatsoever, though it's awesome as hell!  
> 4) The smaller, top part of the Bunker's telescope is an actual scope, while [the bottom, bigger part is a prop](http://www.thetvaddict.com/2015/11/03/supernatural-set-tour-behind-the-scenes-of-the-men-of-letters-bunker), and so I can't possibly be 100% sure it was meant to look like a Cassegrain. It is my best guess, though.  
> 5) The letters by Newton and Mr. Bercé in this fic are real. You can read the whole Newton letter [here](https://books.google.com.br/books?q=cassegrain&id=92lnIw3oKGMC&output=text#v=snippet&q=cassegrain&f=false). I chose not to portray it fully because it's huge with plenty of headache-y details that I thought could ruin the flow, but if you're interested in seeing the greatest genius who ever lived shit fury on someone who dared challenge him for once in full, be my guest. (Ps. Love u Newts but _chill_ <3)  
> 6) Although this fic was inspired by the true controversy surrounding Laurent Cassegrain's telescope design, his obscurity arising from that and the reasons behind it, all of the dialogues in it are **strictly fictional**.  
>  7) Claude Estienne is a fictional, original character I named after one of Cassegrain's real life friends, a canon of the Cathedral of Chartres (a.k.a Prieur de Bercé) - Estienne was the one who published Cassegrain's letters, thus making him known.  
> 8) I love the Cassiopeia (Cas) constellation for obvious reasons and since it's visible in the Lebanon night sky, I picked one of its stars. Random fact for meaningless, dumb numerology purposes: ρ Cas, as the 'ρ' indicates, is the 17th star in the Cas constellation. Dean rose on September the 18th.  
>  
> 
> That's it. Cas, Cassiopeia, Cassegrain, kissing. HAHAHA <3  
> PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE leave a comment if you can?  
> Thank you so much for reading! *huggles* <33


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